Blood Calls
-- By Lynn K. Hollander
Chapter 12 - Coercion and Cars
Ann ported into her library. Tara, Anya, Xander and Dawn were playing Mahjong. "Hi."
"They went to blackmail Mrs. Sternwood," Tara said.
Ann nodded. "It was the obvious thing to do. I'm sorry to interrupt your game, but I need Tara's help."
"Oh, sure, Ann. How?"
"The locating spell. I need to locate a car and a girl I've never seen."
"Are you supposed to do this?" Tara asked, suddenly worried. "Because if you were, that wouldn't stop you, you could just go."
"You know that stupid thing they say in the military?"
"No," Tara said.
"Don't ask, don't tell?" Xander asked.
"That's the one," Ann agreed.
"Oh. OK," Tara said.
"Thank you."
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"The car is here, but it's moving."
"Yes," Ann said, then thought for a moment. "I'm going out and I'm taking the Jaguar. I'll call you once I get there," her pale, short nailed finger indicated the spot on the map, "and you can tell me where the car's moved."
"Yes," Tara said.
Ann smiled at her, at everyone else, and left, running out in a calm and unhurried way.
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In the Jaguar, Ann entered her destination in the navigation computer and approved its displayed route. She pulled out of the garage and headed for the freeway.
There was a hemisphere of crystal set in the center of the steering wheel. Ann touched it. "Kearny Agency."
"Ann, hi."
"I'm headed for San Diego. What's in San Diego?"
"Ian Rawson's guardian's home. His uncle." Alice was apparently reading as she spoke. "His mother's half brother, by their mother's second marriage."
"Address?" Ann demanded.
"Just a second. I've got two computers here, one with a split screen. OK Phone number, reaches a human secretary, who takes messages of any length," Alice said. "A post office box, downtown San Diego; Email address; city address, here, no one home; corporate address, Maryland; no home address in San Diego."
"Keep on that. Charles Ash, where is he?"
"Not at his parents home, my agent was told, and there is no male that age in that house."
"He's no longer completely human."
"Please," Alice said. "The man I sent can tell the difference."
"Sorry. I'm near a phone. Call me with whatever you find out." Ann touched the phone off.
Fifteen minutes she exited the freeway. Touching the crystal, she said, "Home."
"Ann, hi. OK, it stopped, the car. At 2964 Laurel Place, over by some golf course, sort of east of center of the map," Tara said, in her typical rush when she was excited.
"Very good, thank you," Ann touched the phone off. She turned off onto a side street, parked and ported to Laurel Place.
Walking up to the front door, she rang the bell.
The woman who answered the door was inclined to be annoyed. Looking at Ann's clothes, she made an effort to be patient. "Yes?"
"I'm looking for Ian Rawson," Ann said.
"He's supposed to be resting."
"May I see him?"
"He should be here somewhere." The woman stepped back from the door and motioned Ann in.
The first thing that caught Ann's eye was the pile of dust on the floor. "I don't think I can wait," Ann said. "Tell me, did a young woman in a blonde wig arrive just before I did?"
"I don't know," the woman said. "The bell rang, Ian said he would get it."
"It seems he did. Do you know Charles Ash?"
"The boy from Stanford? Ian was going over there later, maybe they left early."
"Over where?" Ann said. "Tell me."
"West Jamul."
"The address," Ann ordered softly.
"75 Warwick Lane."
Ann ported back to the Jaguar. The crystal phone was blinking. Ann touched it. "Hi."
"No luck on Ian, but Charles Ash's mother has remarried and has a place in Jamul."
"75 Warwick Lane?"
"That's the place. How'd you get it?"
"From a woman I assume to be the late Ian's aunt by marriage."
"Oh?"
"Unless she's just a messy housekeeper and the pile of dust isn't Ian after all."
"I see. Well, are we done?"
"Very possibly. I'll call you back if I don't find him or another little pile of dust there. Thanks, Alice."
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Spike glanced around. The Sternwood mansion was bigger than Ann's place, but not as inviting. The group had arrived in the dining room, where there were three people: A woman; a young man, who promptly shifted into full vampire display, and a gravely serious butler serving lunch. Luncheon, Spike amended.
"Mrs. Sternwood?" Giles asked politely.
"Harmony!" the young vampire said.
"Mrs. Sternwood, we have certain demands to place before you," Giles said. "We expect them to be accepted."
"Jake, how are you?"
"How am I? Didn't you come here to be with me?"
"Uh, no, not really."
"Certainly not," Mrs. Sternwood said. "You are not being a thrall to some silly outsider, James."
"Oh, come on. She's not that kind of girl," Spike declared
"I am too," Harmony insisted.
"Harmony, you couldn't enthrall a budgerigar."
"What about our destiny?" James demanded.
"Well, you know," Harmony said. "I mean, we were together a whole week."
Buffy, glancing back at Harmony, caught the two credit card mercenaries, just beyond her, exchange a quick glance. She followed their gaze to the butler.
"I don't believe this: The butler did it?!!? Willow, truth spell that butler."
"Let me try this first," Willow said. She pulled the credit card out of her belt pouch, whispered to it and opened her hand, letting the card rest on her palm. She spoke one more word, and the card flew across the room and stuck to the butler's forehead. Quickly, Willow set the truth spell, and nodded to Buffy.
"Now," Buffy said. "Did you hire these two men to kill Harmony?"
"Yes," the butler said.
"Nash," James Sternwood said. "Why?"
"I disapproved of what she has done to you, sir."
"Really, Nash," Mrs. Sternwood said.
"Thank you, Nash," the vampire said.
"It is, after all, only what Norris would have done for your grandfather."
"Nash, we will discuss your uncle later. Throw these people out."
Giles and Buffy looked at Nash, who was approaching retirement age. Buffy walked over to him, pulled out a side chair, pushed him down in it and said: "Don't try anything. I break furniture."
Nash looked over at Mrs. Sternwood, then at James Sternwood, who shrugged. Nash relaxed.
"I will not be intimidated by uncouth children," Mrs. Sternwood said.
"Hey! This is not a bluff," Spike said, entering full display in his irritation. Take us seriously. We have your bank records about the withdrawal of the money we found on them, we have their taped confessions and we just recorded your butler's confession of attempted murder. Get real here."
"Smooth," Buffy muttered.
"You do it, then," Spike growled, shifting back to human and handing her the evidence.
"Mrs. Sternwood, the original items are with a friend. We suggest a truce. You keep your hired killers out of Sunnydale and stop trying to kill--" and I can't believe I'm saying this, Buffy thought "--Harmony, and our friend just keeps them. Bother us again, and we go public. We won't stop with a criminal trial, either, we'll also go straight to The National Mirror and out your son as a closet vampire and you and your butler as mass murderers by hire." She placed the envelope on the table and stepped back.
"That's it?" James said. "Go away and don't bother you? You turned me into a vampire, Harm, then you left me. What am I supposed to do now?"
"Deal with it," Spike said. "Your family's supporting you, you haven't got it bad in the least."
"She's not even sorry we broke up!"
"You're kidding!" Spike said.
"She didn't even ask!"
"That's true," Buffy said.
"That is true," Spike admitted. "Harmony, apologize."
"Spike! What about poor Denny? What about what his mother had them do to him?"
"This is about what you did. Apologize," Spike said.
"I'm sorry I made you immortal."
"Oh, grow up, Harm. The prospect of eternity with people like you in it can be pretty damn terrifying."
"Especially when you haven't been laid in three weeks, and don't see how you're going to manage ever again!"
"Oh, bloody hell. Is that all you're actually griping about?" Spike grabbed James and pulled him aside.
Buffy, Giles, Willow, Gang Long, Harmony, the five mercenary prisoners, Mrs. Sternwood, and Nash the butler, watched as Spike, speaking steadily, but very softly, handed James a card from his wallet. Spike's gestures grew expansive, James's face went from sulky to mildly interested to avidly interested.
"Really?" the watchers heard James ask..
"Really," Spike averred, at normal volume. "And best of all, if you find yourself at a loose end in the middle of the day, they have underground parking, so all you do is drive in and take the private lift. They accept credit cards, too."
"OK, thanks," James said, examining the card more carefully.
"And the food is good."
"I can still eat? I thought all I could eat was blood and I was getting damn tired of it."
"Blood feeds you. Food tastes good, just don't eat too much. You don't need to stop tasting, although I like Cambells better than blood straight from the human. The adrenaline the humans pump into their blood imparts a harsh metallic tang."
"I don't like the AB negative at all."
"There are seven other flavors to choose from and if you get the non-flavored generic, you can always add anything you want. I like clam juice or Tabasco, but I've been told some vampires like wheat grass or even banana. De gustibus non est disputandum."
"Thanks," James's eyes shifted uneasily at the Latin, then came back to the older vampire: "Spike, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"You're sort of my grandfather, right?"
Spike looked startled for a moment, then took advantage of James's obvious need for friends and supporters: "In a way; which entitles me to kick your butt if I catch you doing something stupid. Remember, you're immortal now, you can outlive everyone here, if you're smart and you don't panic the humans. Start taking a long view. Just stay out of Sunnydale, or Buffy will stake you."
"Sunnydale," Buffy said, "is off-limits to any mercenary. Remember that, please, all of you."
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